His Camera
by anangelslament
Summary: Maureen does the unthinkable, Mark is heartbroken, Roger is confused and just wants to help, and Collins shows up to try and make things better.


"Maureen, what do you mean you dropped my camera?"

"Oh pookie, it's nothing. It still works. See?"

Mark's beloved camera that he had received for his bar mitzvah was just about broken in two. The lens had fallen off and was dangling by a string.

"What did you do?" he screamed. "It's ruined! This was an antique. How could you?" Tears began to fill the young filmmakers piercing sky blue eyes. He cradled his camera in his arms as if attending to a sick child.

"I don't see what the big deal is," retorted Maureen as she popped her gum and twirled her newly dyed brunette coiffure. "It's just a camera. You can get it fixed. Look," she said as she pried it out of his fingers. "I can get it to work. See?"

"That's not the point," he whined as the lens fell off entirely. At this point Mark was a broken man. He bolted for his room. As he slammed his door shut Roger came back from his shift at the bar.

"What was that about," questioned Roger.

"Nothing," replied Maureen. "Mark just threw a hissy fit 'cause I dropped his camera."

Roger's jaw dropped. "You what?"

"It still works," she snapped. "I'm leaving. Tell him to stop being such a baby for me. Ok?"

"Sure. See you later," he said as he ushered the drama queen out the door.

Roger put away the few groceries he had picked up on the way home along with some booze he had smuggled from work. He set two beers aside, popped off the caps, and headed to Mark's room. He knocked on the door and was answered with moans. "Hey," he whispered as he sat next to Mark's curled form on his disheveled bed. "I brought beer."

"Thanks," he replied as he sat up and wiped the tears from his eyes. "I must seem like such a baby," he said as he took a swig.

"No. Not really. I know how much you love that thing. Now if she touched my guitar and did the same thing she'd be out on the street."

"How so?"

"I'd have tossed her off the fire escape," he smiled.

Mark laughed as he finished off the final half of his beer. "What am I going to do, Rog?" he sighed. "The thing is practically an antique. It'll cost a fortune to get it fixed," he buried his head even further into his pillow.

"I don't know what to say. Just what did she do?"

"All I cared to see was that so broke the lens. That alone is a few hundred to replace. I don't even want to survey the rest of the damage done to it."

Roger got up with the empty bottles to put them in the recycle bin. On the way back with some fresh drinks he checked the damage done to the camera. The poor thing was just about in two. "My God, Maureen," he whispered as he gently picked up the pieces.

Mark had emerged from his room to grab a beer. The sight of his beloved lying in pieces drove him mad. He proceeded to grab the pieces from Roger's callused hands and locked himself in his room. Roger could do nothing but watch as the door that was always open, slammed shut.

A few beers and hours later Roger decided to try and gain entrance to the now forbidden room. He softly tapped on the door. "Mark? You awake?" Roger slowly pushed the door open to find the filmmaker passed out with his camera in his hands. Mark's attempts at trying to fix it had obviously failed. "What am I going to do with you," he muttered to himself as he picked up the pieces. Mark groaned and shifted his weight onto his side. Roger thought he had woken him. Thankfully Mark curled up further into himself and sighed. "Let's go get you fixed," whispered Roger to the pieces of Mark's broken heart.

Mark awoke the next morning with a slight headache and a numbness coursing through his veins. "God am I a lightweight sometimes," he muttered to himself. He stumbled into the loft calling Roger's name. To his surprise he was greeted with Collins' strong, throaty voice. "Hey! What time did you get in?"

"Depends on how you look at it. Either late last night of early this morning," he replied with a chuckle.

"Where's Roger?"

"No idea. I caught him on his way out."

"Oh," answered Mark as he put on coffee. "Coffee," he asked.

"Sure."

"So, where have you been?"

"Around."

"Still at NYU?"

"Yea."

"Milk, sugar?"

"Yes. So what's new with you? How is everyone?"  
"Nothing new really. I just have to find a new way to make a living and Maureen has a death sentence hanging over her head."

Collins chuckled. "How so?"

"She broke my camera. I'd rather not talk about it," he said bluntly.

"Oh," he replied with eyes wide open. "I'm sorry man. That sucks."

"Tell me about it," he said as he handed Collins his chipped coffee mug and took a seat on the long metal table with his own, intently studying the brown liquid. "I give up," he sighed.

"Well, shit happens man."

"I know but, have you ever noticed how all this shit happens to me?"

"Get over yourself," Collins said as he flung a pillow in Mark's direction.

"Hey!"

"C'mon. Go get dressed. I'm taking you out so you don't sink into this crevice of self-pity."

They finished their coffee, Mark dressed, and they left for the day.

Roger was tired and happy to be back at the loft. His search had taken all night and morning and had taken him all over Manhattan but, it was fixed. Mark's camera had been fixed. It did not matter to Roger that he had to hock some of his own stuff for the money. All that mattered was the look on Mark's face when he saw that his baby was in working order. Right now all that mattered was Mark's happiness. It was the least he could do.

"Roger you home yet? You missed…." Mark dropped his bag and lunged at the songwriter.

"Oof! What," questioned Roger who was now pinned under Mark's thin frame.

"You fixed it! Oh my God! How did you? What did you?" Mark continued to babble incoherent praise to his friend. He paused for a moment to catch his breath.

"Thank you," said Roger.

"What are you thanking me for, I should be thanking you."

"For everything, for this." He leaned into Mark's questioning face, lips poised for a kiss.

"Thank you," replied Mark with eager lips.


End file.
